


Character

by Teland



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Backstory, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, ish???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-10-10
Updated: 1998-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: "You're just determined to sidetrack this conversation, aren't you?"





	Character

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Rye and the Spike for excellent beta.

Te: Mulder and Alex have something resembling a   
relationship. Yet another dark night, and cool. Rain in   
the air from before, and perhaps from an hour from now. Yet   
another alley and Mulder comes up short at the feel of   
oddly warm metal close behind his ear.

"This is getting old."

"How do you mean?"

"The guns, the surprises, the dirty sex. Well, OK, maybe   
not the dirty sex."

A snort. "I always thought the guns and surprises made a   
nice lead-in to the dirty sex, myself."

"I'm starting to go grey, Alex. You're shortening my life   
span."

Alex moved closer, pressed his lips against the air   
cushioning Mulder's left ear. "This can't possibly be a   
shock..."

And the voice always had the same effect: a softening of   
bone, an urge.

"I wouldn't say a shock, precisely..."

"Mulder, Mulder... I love saying your name. It makes me   
angry that I can't have all of it. I like to get angry,   
sometimes..."

A hand, casual and slow, slipped beneath Mulder's jacket,   
toyed idly with the gun in his holster.

"You do?"

And slipped away again. This time, Alex's voice was a   
little cold. "I really don't care to be the bug on your   
pin."

"I thought you liked my pin."

"Your innuendoes are just getting worse."

"Maybe you can see how I feel about the guns, etc.?"

The hand came back, the lips began moving over Mulder's   
widening temple. Kisses planted on skin growing heated.   
"I don't know... I've always been of the opinion that grey   
adds character."

"Character."

"Yes, character. Is that so strange?"

"No, Alex, it seems exactly like you. It makes me   
wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Bland, a voice that spoke more of "give   
me an excuse to hurt you" than of "keep talking so I can   
hear when you start to moan."

Mulder resolved to spend some time thinking about just   
when he'd come to know Alex's voice that well. "I want..."

"What do you want, Mulder? Tell me."

All sex this time. Perhaps Alex thought he'd succeeded in   
distracting him from the whirl and heft of his thoughts.   
Again.

"I want to look at you."

"While I fuck you? We'd have to get something resembling   
a bed."

Mulder chuckled. "A tragedy, to be sure. No, I don't want   
to fuck, Alex."

Alex bit his earlobe, groped teasingly at Mulder's erection   
through the suit pants. No way not to moan at the   
contact, push back at welcoming heat. "Don't you?   
Speaking of games... this has to be one I thought we'd   
gotten past."

"And the trust one isn't?"

"Well, now, Mulder..." A tongue in his ear, quick and   
promising. "I don't think the trust game *ever* gets old.   
But tell me what you want to talk about. I'm willing to   
admit we don't talk enough."

"And you never call, you never write..."

"Stop it, Mulder. I *like* my foreskin exactly where it   
is."

"Mmmm... your foreskin *has* to be on the list of forbidden  
foods."

"Feel like committing some blasphemy?"

"Always. Except for right now." With an effort, Mulder   
pulled himself away from his lover's eighteen hands and   
forty-seven tongues, leaned back against a wall damp with  
what he sincerely hoped was rainwater.

Alex sighed, dramatically, took up a position against the   
dumpster. "What is it?"

Mulder took a moment to admire his form. Alex always turned   
slightly to his right at times like these, offering a view   
of denimed hip, denimed long, lean leg... an effective   
distraction from the missing parts of himself. Lovely.   
"Tell me more about the character thing, Alex. What *is*   
character to you?"

"Ah. Is this about my questionable moral standards?"

"Perhaps peripherally... I haven't decided yet."

Alex looked at the sky, the empty sidewalk beyond their   
tiny bit of shadow and Mulder began to grow a little   
anxious. 

"Do we have time for this, here?"

Alex didn't turn to face him. "I always have ti-- I'd   
rather be fucking you through that wall, but... Yes, we   
have time."

Mulder caught the slip, but it didn't feel right. He   
wondered if that was for his benefit. Perhaps an attempt to   
soften him, distract with words as opposed to flesh. Alex   
would know that wouldn't work, though...

"... is it, Mulder?"

"Did you ever fuck him?"

"Him, who? There've been a lot of hims..."

Mulder winced, and he had no doubt *that* was on   
purpose.

"You know who I'm talking about, Alex. Cigarettes and a   
vague impression that he wants to touch you in your   
no-no places."

"I can always count on you to bring up some truly   
disturbing images."

"It's the Oxford education. Has to count for something."

A snort. "I always just assumed it accounted for your own   
collection of hims."

"I'll tell you another time."

"Promise?"

"Alex..."

"No, I never slept with him."

"But he's nice and grey..."

"And has the aforementioned predilection for no-no places,  
yes. I think I was maybe too old for him. Or too..."

"Too what?"

"Too not you." And Alex's smile was a perfection of   
wickedness.

"Would it be too immature to just say 'ew'?"

"Not if you let me spank you."

"You're just determined to sidetrack this conversation,   
aren't you?"

"If I was determined I'd walk over there, shove my tongue   
down your throat and work your cock slowly and gently   
until you begged me to hurt you."

"Hurting, spanking... I still want to know where the grey  
equals character thing came from."

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

"I want something for this."

"We're not playing truth or dare unless you have a bottle   
of Jaegermeister somewhere in that jacket."

"Jaeger?! You are *such* a fucking preppy."

"Yeah, and you're the hood I deign to let fuck me 'till I   
scream. What's your point?"

"It's supposed to be tequila."

"Fine, if we ever play truth or dare we'll have tequila."

"You'd turn down a dare?"

"I'm hesitant to answer that."

A snicker. "No one ever said you weren't bright."

"I want to know what you want for... this. Whatever it   
turns out to be."

"So you can start determining the worth of the information  
by the value of my demand. No way, stud. I'll tell you what  
I want afterwards."

"Hey, I don't want to sell my soul for some gender-  
confused Electra complex."

"This from a man who refuses to listen to my theories on   
his oral fixation?"

"I. Just. Like. Sunflower. Seeds."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. I promise -- no Electra   
complex. Not even an Oedipal one."

"One of these days we're going to have to discuss your   
feelings about Aeschylus."

"Fine, but I want a blowjob first."

"Done. But I'm still hesitant about the soul-selling   
thing."

"So I'm the devil, now? A bit of a cliche, don't you   
think?"

"You're beautiful enough."

Dismissive gesture. "And who says I want your soul? I   
have your body, I have your mind..."

"Who says you have my mind?"

"What are you thinking about right now?"

//Fifteenth alley. He wants to spank me. Scully's revenge.   
Scully's hair. Scully's eyes. I've never been spanked. Am I   
a pedophile? I want--//

"Nothing of any consequence."

"Lies and lies. And you wonder why I'm so fond of the trust   
game."

"Fine. You can have *one* request, free and clear, if you   
tell me about character."

"I... All right. Let me think a minute."

"We have time."

//I want to taste you.//

"Not so much... All right. I really am Russian, you know."

"KGB?"

"Something like that. I was young, and I was very, very   
good. And I knew it."

"I'm not surprised."

"You're only making me revise the request."

"You didn't have it all planned out?"

"I believe in spontaneity. Anyway, I needed to be broken   
to the leash."

"Interesting choice of words."

"Far be it from me to bore you."

"Never."

"I love it when you're romantic." But Alex's eyes were far   
away, and he was frowning. Not enough to mar his mouth,   
yet, but that spoke more of control than any mildness of   
mood.

Mulder resolved to try to shut up.

"I was told -- ordered, really -- to report to Comrade   
Peskow. I was cocky, but I wasn't stupid. I saluted, turned   
away, and went right home to polish my boots. Trim another   
few liberal, lazy centimeters from my hair."

The voice was rich with self-mockery.

"Peskow was, of course, there when I arrived. I didn't know   
that until I woke up to find myself tied to my favorite   
chair. Large, old wood. A slight creak I'd oiled out   
myself. He was on the ratty old couch, cleaning a knife   
that looked like it belonged in a museum... *He* looked   
like he belonged in a museum."

"How old was he?"

"Hmmm... Perhaps 50. Perhaps 70. In our line of work..."

Alex let the thought trail off and Mulder nodded his   
understanding. Tried to imagine Alex in another five years   
and failed miserably. Mulder knew he would always be the   
same.

"The knife... the blade was black with years of honing.   
Thin and strong. The man... he was old. You always want   
to picture the old as thin, bony. Peskow was this gnarled   
tree... He looked like he hurt all the time when winter   
set in. He looked like he didn't care."

Mulder caught himself getting prickly about the idea that   
this was something to respect -- a man without enough   
sense to take a painkiller -- but reminded himself to back   
off the point, for now.

"I was angry." Brief smile. "In a bad way. Such a fucking   
*typical* scene. Apprentice assassin tripped up by the   
master. I don't know, it didn't seem fair for that bullshit   
to start before I even got to school, as it were. He said,   
'School starts when I say it does,' but I know I hadn't   
spoken aloud."

"And that just pissed you off even more."

"Of course it did. Shit, I was a kid. And the last thing a   
kid wants to hear is that he *is* just a kid." Another   
smile. "Well... this kid."

"I asked him what my first lesson was. He just looked at me   
once and kept cleaning. Took me a while to figure things   
out. But when my wrists started to bleed from the rope..."   
Alex trailed off, made a small motion that was almost   
invisible due to positioning and subtlety. Mulder presumed  
he was trying to rub his wrists in memory, and winced a   
little. "Anyway, I let the blood flow, as surreptitiously   
as possible. Offered Peskow some of the vodka in my   
freezer. He thanked me kindly and began to clean his gun."

"Charming houseguest."

"I don't ever want to hear you complain about *my* visits  
again."

"I'll do my best to grumble quietly the next time you scare   
the living shit outta me."

"It's appreciated. When my wrists were good and slick I   
slumped back in the chair. Did my best to work up a good  
whine. 'I'm tired of this, when do the lessons begin?'"

"Seems counterintuitive to get his attention."

"Yes and no. I was trying to make him underestimate me.   
He finished reloading his gun and tucked it away. 'Comrade  
Krycek, the first lesson is an easy one. Do not ever tie a   
prisoner in such a way that you cannot keep a close eye on   
his bonds. Get yourself out of there so I can bandage your  
wrists. The second lesson is to try not to drip on a   
hardwood floor.'"

"Smug bastard."

"Annoying as all hell. "School" was never typical. Sure,   
there were a few times when it was just the proper rope   
material to use for garrotes, when it's appropriate to   
mutilate a corpse -- as opposed to just necessary -- but   
most of my time with Peskow was spent in any number of   
unsuccessful attempts to kill the sonofabitch and dealing   
with the repercussions of my failures."

"And this is what you look at as character?"

"Well... you have to understand, Mulder. I wouldn't be   
alive today were it not for Peskow. And it wasn't *all*   
school. The man had a sense of humor, too. For Christmas   
one year... well, not *Christmas* but it's hard to crush   
out the idea of an entire season, you know?"

Mulder nodded.

"Yeah. It was right after the cyanide-in-the-tea-canister   
attempt. He smuggled in a tin of sugared almonds for me...   
I immediately had them tested for poison -- exactly three   
had been injected with strychnine -- but it was still   
really sweet."

"Like an educational toy."

"Mm-hmm... Fisher-Price should've recruited him. He... he  
was the closest thing I had to a father. OK, fine, so maybe   
it was a gender-confused Electra complex at first, but it   
didn't end up that way."

"Were you lovers?" 

"No... though I tried. First as part of the attempted   
killings, then just because I wanted him to touch me... He   
always refused. He's a good friend, now. An occasional   
business associate, though he is, finally, retired."

"God help the Social Security set."

Knife blade flash of teeth. "He always turned me down."

"Perhaps senility *had* set in."

"I'm beginning to think you're attracted to me."

"It's a possibility."

"Wanna fuck?"

Mulder snorted. "Yeah, I do, but we're doing it in a *bed*   
this time, dammit."

"Hey, I still haven't gotten my request."

Mulder cocked his head but Alex merely grinned at him. So  
he made his way across the alley, planted his hands on   
either side of the other man's head and kissed him deeply.

Mint. Alex had brushed his teeth before setting out to   
stalk him. For a moment Mulder let himself indulge in a   
dream of warmth and safety -- the two of them, alone   
together in some remote hideaway. Soft blankets and the   
press and rub of skin.

A part of him abruptly understood the ruthlessness of   
desire above and beyond the callow insistency of his   
hardening cock. Mulder wanted, and he would have. He   
wondered if this was the way it always was for Alex. He   
broke the kiss with a vague sense of being fair. 

"What do you want. What can I give you?"

Alex smiled, slipped his arm around Mulder's waist pulled   
him a few necessary millimeters closer. "I think I'd like   
to hold this over your head for a while."

"Bastard."

"Mm-hmm. We'll take your car." 

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~


End file.
